


Cinematics

by TrilesForMiles



Category: Degrassi, Degrassi: Next Class
Genre: Addiction, Bus Crash, Feels, Love Triangle, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-27 12:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7618870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrilesForMiles/pseuds/TrilesForMiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A school bus filled with local city high school students on their way to a volleyball tournament has been involved in a major accident on the Dawn Valley parkway. While no fatalities have been reported, a number of students are being rushed to hospital; at least one in critical condition. The names have not been released.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

** Prelude **

Someone once said that actions speak louder than words.

Maybe that’s because the things people say can be so insignificant. Sure, there are people out there who will forever be remembered by that circumlocutory speech or for writing the next big feminist anthem. But when you look at the big picture, the words they say all become minor details – whether it be an obnoxiously off-key rendition of the beloved school song or the awkward silence that followed when an obvious outsider asked permission to join the clique.

Nobody’s going to dwell over the memory of him raising his voice over the miscellaneous chatter of students inside to remind them they can fit three to a seat; or question why her tone was coming off broken and meek when she was usually so unyielding.

Nobody’s going to think about the small talk they made as the bus began its slow descent from the parking lot. Even if they remember, they’re not actually going to give a shit about what day he starts science camp, how many piercings she has, or how long he’s been playing guitar.

They’ll be dwelling over the smell of blood mixed with burning metal and flesh that filled the air. They’ll think about what it felt like to lose all sense of balance before their cheeks understood the unwelcoming touch of asphalt and broken glass.

They’ll remember a strong arm, instinctually reaching out to protect the wrong girl from being a sacrifice to tragedy.

They’ll remember what it sounds like to hear a window shatter from the unexpected weight of a body, or to actually hear individual bones snap from an unbearable pressure.

They’ll remember what it feels like to accept defeat, and realize that they could be closing their eyes for the last time.

Because even after 32 minutes of meaningless conversation, all it took was one single action to change their lives forever.

One minute, they were Deon “Tiny” Bell, Grace Cardinal, Jonah Haak, Maya Matlin, Tristan Milligan, and Zig Novak.

The next, they were patient numbers 09171123, 09171124, 09171125, 09171126, 09171127, and 09711128. Better known as the local city high school students on their way to a volleyball tournament.

 

_“A school bus filled with local city high school students on their way to a volleyball tournament has been involved in a major accident on the Dawn Valley parkway. While no fatalities have been reported, a number of students are being rushed to hospital; at least one in critical condition. The names have not been released.”_


	2. The Grand Finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> Yep, that's right. I'm writing a fucking bus crash story.
> 
> *Inserts the same spiel here that I've been giving for a year about how I know I shouldn't be starting another new multi-chapter when I've got a trillion unfinished fics*
> 
> ^ Now that that's over...
> 
> Honestly that finale just gave me so many different emotions that brought out a level of inspiration I haven't felt in a long time and I just want to take advantage of it before it goes away so. There's my excuse. Also I'm sure I'm not the only one worried that Degrassi is going to take a potentially outstanding plotline and do something basic with it. *cough*
> 
> This is going to follow the main characters that were involved in the crash (Tiny, Zig, Maya, Grace, Tristan, Jonah) and what comes of them after the accident, as well as the lives of those around them (Shay, Lola, Zoe, Miles, Frankie, and maybe some surprise guests oOoOoo). it will likely switch between characters within each chapter, as I really want to cover what's happening with them all individually at the same times.
> 
> Obviously, if you haven't figured out by now...season 2 spoilers. Right here. Also, general content warning for graphic content, tragedy, mental illness, and drug use. If future chapters need other specific content warnings, I'll be sure to add them before each chapter.
> 
> This fic itself is titled after the album "Cinematics" by Set It Off because it was what I was listening to when Next Class was first announced (tRASH). It will have 13 chapters not including the prelude, all named after the tracks on the album.
> 
> The content of each chapter won't necessarily fit hand-in-hand with the lyrics, but I do still recommend giving the songs a listen as the album is truly amazing.
> 
> I think that's it? As always, I always love feedback so please don't hesitate to drop me a review or a message if you've got any thoughts!

 

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Grand Finale**

"Hey, you've reached Tristan! Leave me a message and I'll T-T-Y-L. Thanks! Mwah!"

"Mother fucker." Miles grumbled under his breath, barely even giving the voicemail message time for the following beep before hanging up and calling back again.

Tristan was never without his phone for too long. Between keeping up with what was trending on Twitter to his super secret Candy Crush addiction, he could never stray too far from it without feeling a loss. One, maybe two missed calls at most. But by the time it took to get to a third he always picked up. Miles listened to the rings, noting the way the sky had turned an empty gray and the wind whipped at the back of his neck like a vicious tormentor he couldn't escape. He put a palm against the skin in an attempt for relief, stroking where the mixture of tension and cold had began to rub him raw and waited impatiently for the response he could only pray was coming.

His boyfriend would answer a bit out of breath, obviously shaken up but relieved to hear Miles' voice. He would explain how things were chaotic at the scene but all in all he was intact. He'd probably even throw in a little humor to lighten the mood, something about how this was just like episode 0813 of West Drive when Carmen ditched summer school to make amends with Brad and crashed into a streetlight. He'd ask Miles to pick him up, or to meet him at his house later for an evening of de-stressing with a long nap and an old movie. Miles would stop for food on the way and Tristan would insist that he's not hungry just to end up "sampling" every last selection on Miles' plate. Everything would be perfectly normal again.

"Hey you've reached Tristan! Leave me a message and I'll T-T-Y-L. Thanks! Mwah!"

Then there was the beep, and a full minute of silence in which everything around Miles seemed frozen. He couldn't find the words to speak or even the right signals in his brain that formed thoughts into actions so he could actually fucking do something. He was still; and he would have been so sure his heart stopped completely in those 60 seconds by the tight pain in his chest if he hadn't heard the heavy pounding like a new set of bongos in his head.

"H-hey. Tris." He finally choked out, his words a low and jumbled mess from restless anxiety. "It's me. Uh, Miles. I heard about uh...well, you know...about the crash. A-and I just...uh...c-call me back when you get this. O-okay? Let me know that...that you're alright. I love you, Tris."

He fumbled to hang up, too many emotions boiling up inside him for him to comprehend. What if Tristan wasn't alright? Of course the thought was in his head but denial was pulling like an anchor at his stomach until it was nothing but knots. He needed to leave. He needed to be there. Wherever Tristan was. And hear his voice and feel his soft skin against his trembling fingertips.

He moved without thought, heavy lids blinking away tears as he walked to his car and shut himself inside. The leather was cold but he was on fire, fuming to himself as he struggled to get the key in the ignition the right way. Finally the engine roared to life, and a frantic knock at the window was the only thing that stopped him from getting the fuck out of there straight away.

"Miles!" His sister called as her knuckles smacked the glass, her tear stained face mere inches from the window. "Miles, let us in! We're going with you!"

"Don't worry about Hunter." Frankie added as she swung open the now unlocked passenger door and scrambled in at his side, joined by Zoe, Lola, and Shay in the back. "Winston's gonna take him and Yael back to the house and stay till mom's home. He'll meet us at the ER later."

Miles only nodded, dimly acknowledging the plan before the doors slammed shut and his Convertible peeled out of the parking lot.

* * *

The local hospital was nothing short of complete and utter chaos. It was like something from a television screen, an over-dramatized scene with the entire staff on deck shouting and running from every last corner. Unfortunately the most familiar of eyes were not blind to the sights of tragedy, which was exactly why Grace wanted to keep hers shut for as long as possible.

The table beneath her was unforgiving against her bruised skin but she was so mentally exhausted she could have easily fallen asleep with a moment of silence. However silence was a luxury that in that moment was impossible to find. She waited through a series of buzzes and a few small flashes of light she could just barely make out from behind her closed lids.

"Okay Grace, just one more...aaand we're done." An adenoidal voice coaxed her as she was forced to re-open her eyes and great the harsh, fluorescent lighting fixed to the ceiling above.

"Give it about 25, maybe 30 minutes for your results." The x-ray tech continued as he helped her remove the protective slip and carefully set her right arm back into a temporary sling. "Normally, it'd be a lot quicker but, well...we've got our hands full today. Hang tight out there and a nurse will be by shortly for further treatment."

"Thanks." She mumbled, and immediately winced, wondering how she could have possibly disregarded the discomfort from the unsightly gash underneath her bottom lip.

Stitches had been the first thing on her involuntary ER scavenger hunt, although if it hadn't been for the taste of blood in her mouth she probably wouldn't have even noticed the wound right away. Ironically enough she hadn't felt a thing until the stiff with the scrubs stuck that damn painkiller in her face and broke out the sewing needle. Now as she waited for the medication to kick in she was very aware of the presence of surgical thread tight around her mouth; but on the brightside she had an excuse not to talk to anybody for a while.

The exam room where she waited was nothing new to her. It had the same stark-white curtain and wax-paper veiled seating as any other she'd been in. It had that clean, medicinal smell she'd grown to find almost comforting from the lifetime she'd spent around doctors offices and hospitals like they were her true home. Yet, she felt so out of place.

She was okay. A little banged up, with a busted face and a possibly broken arm but all in all she was fine. Her, the girl who was already living life with one foot in the grave, walked away from the accident in one piece while people with futures and goals were probably fighting for their lives. It wasn't fair. She knew it wasn't fair, and she believed with everything she had that things weren't meant to turn out the way they did.

Shame churned in her stomach as she thought of how it could have been. How it _should_ have been. How nobody, but especially not Grace Cardinal, deserved this turn of events that was so fucking wrong. Yet her savage mind was on a constant loop, replaying the memory again and again like a Vine she couldn't bring herself to scroll past.

_"M'am, I need you to remain calm so we can help you." The EMT's cold, callous voice sent rage trembling violently up Grace's spine as she fought to be heard._

_"Screw me! Why aren't you helping her?!"_

_She argued back with as much force as she could master, pinned tight to the surface where she laid by the weight of a slack body on top of hers. Her dark eyes were stretched wide with anxiety as she kept them fixed straight ahead at what she could see of her friend, reduced to a mess of blonde hair matted with soot and blood. There were three attendants at her side and yet they seemed to be making no actual progress towards getting the her out of the bus and into an ambulance._

_"M'am, please. I can assure you your friend is getting help..."  
_

_"No! No, they're not doing anything! Why aren't they doing anything?! Why aren't you helping them?!"_

_Her distraught voice reached a pitch she had never even heard before, panic building up inside her like a solid boulder in her chest. Tears of fury and shame poured down her cheeks but she remained unaware, too numb from everything that was happening to react to any physical feelings. Her lips sputtered from the copper taste of blood in her mouth, and she watched in horror as the drops of red splattered against the arm wrapped over her protectively, too strong and bare to be her own._

_Conquered, she laid perfectly still, fully aware of the presence of the EMT's lifting an ailing Zig away from her and onto a stretcher yet still staring where Maya's body laid even long after she'd been removed herself. Guiding hands at her back carefully ushered Grace to her feet and helped her through the maze of bodies and destruction that had formed. She scanned the entire scene dangerously fast, refusing to let a single detail go unseen even as authorities begged her to keep her attention ahead._

_She sat into the back of an ambulance with sirens that wailed to make traffic stop as if life-or-death depended on her arrival to medical care. It was then, all on her own minus the workers that kept her company, that she began to feel the physical pain. She felt it in her face and the surface of her skin and shooting through the no longer solid bones in her dominant arm. The EMT that began examining the mark on her lip asked her if she could tell him if anything else was wrong, while another set up to take her vitals. Blankly, she answered in a voice that was barely a whisper._

_"It should have been me."_


End file.
